Chapter 1

Chapter

One

O cracoke Island, North Carolina—October—Present Day

It was that time of year again when grown adults thought it was perfectly acceptable to say "Arrr" in public.

The crisp autumn breeze carried the scent of saltwater, pumpkin spice, and impending chaos. Mary Snow stood at the window of her bookstore, Read Between the Tides, watching the influx of tourists with a mixture of dread and resignation as they made their way to various B&Bs as they disembarked from the ferry. The quaint historic house that housed her shop and apartment sat nestled under live oaks and shaded cedar trees on Fig Tree Lane, a tranquil haven soon to be overrun by pirate enthusiasts.

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered, glaring at a group of giggling women decked out in striped shirts and plastic eye patches, clearly getting into the spirit for the annual Blackbeard Pirate's Jamboree way too early. "It's not even November yet," she grumbled under her breath.

With a deep sigh, she turned away from the window and looked out over the shop. Shelves upon shelves of books stood waiting to take readers away from reality and whisk them away to other worlds.

The warm, inviting scent of old paper, the pumpkin spice candle, and freshly brewed coffee permeated the air. This sanctuary she'd built was her escape from the world outside. And now, thanks to the impending festival, was about to be invaded.

Mary ran a hand through her long red hair, tucking a wayward strand behind her ear. Her bright green eyes held a hint of weariness. For whatever reason, likely anxiety, she never slept well leading up to and during the festival. At twenty-five, she sometimes felt decades older, especially when faced with the prospect of dealing with hordes of overzealous tourists.

"Alright," she muttered to herself, squaring her shoulders. "Time to prepare for the onslaught."

With practiced efficiency, she restocked shelves and arranged displays to showcase all things pirate. While she definitely thought the jamboree was ridiculous, she was also pragmatic enough to accept that the surge of tourists would bring an influx of cash to the island. Enough to pay the bills and carry her through the lean winter months until they returned in the spring. Her fingers lingered lovingly over the spines of favorite novels. The shop carried new books as well as boasting a large used book section as well. The tiny local library in town was underfunded as most small towns were, so the used section was popular among locals and tourists alike.

The bell above the door chimed, and Mary looked up to see a middle-aged couple enter, their eyes wide with excitement.

"Oh, honey, look," the woman exclaimed, grabbing her husband's arm. "They have pirate books."

Mary plastered on her best customer service smile, which felt more like a grimace as she dusted her hands off on her jeans, and met the couple in the center of the shop, next to a round antique table laden with shirts, bookmarks, soaps, and candles, all with a pirate theme.

"Welcome to Read Between the Tides. Can I help you find anything?"

The woman beamed at her. "We came in two weeks early for a little vacation and, of course, for the Pirate Jamboree. Do you have any books about Blackbeard?"

"We do," she replied, leading them to a display to the right. "We have an entire display dedicated to local pirate history."

"I have to get this shirt." The woman held up an apple green long-sleeved shirt that proclaimed in black script, Channeling my inner Blackbeard today!

The man, who was holding his wife's purse, and obviously used to shopping with her, simply nodded and held out his arm so she could drape the shirt over it. Then the woman turned to Mary. "Where did you get those adorable pirate flag earrings you're wearing?"

She pointed to the display, delighted when the woman picked up two pairs along with a candle that said it smelled like rum, citrus, and wood, perfect for evoking the feel of a captain's cabin on a … yes, a pirate ship.

With a smile, Mary retreated behind the counter, mentally counting down the days until the madness would be over and making a note to make sure to wear one of the bookish or pirate shirts to help sell the merchandise. She'd pulled on a black long-sleeved tee that had homebody embroidered across the front in white lettering.

As the couple exclaimed over the extensive selection of merchandise, filling the cart the husband had grabbed from the front, Mary placed another order for apparel and mugs, along with four more baskets and five more small rolling shopping carts, all branded with the shop name. The funny thing was, over the summer, several customers had wanted to buy the hand held baskets and the carts. Several of them said they used the baskets to hold their to be read books on their bookshelves, while others loved the three-tiered carts and used them not only for books, but planning supplies, and other items. The typical grocery store carts were also a hit, as they were a mini version and adorable. The baskets and carts were all black with white lettering and the shop's logo of her store and waves.

During the festival, the tiny island's normal population of just over a thousand swelled to several times that, as tourists flooded in for the annual celebration of all things pirate.

The bell chimed again, and Mary looked up to see her best friend, Lily Parker, breezing through the door. Lily's shoulder-length blonde hair bounced with each step, and her warm brown eyes sparkled with excitement.

"I'm here," Lily called out, her voice carrying through the store. "Are you ready for the most exciting time of the year?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "If by ‘exciting' you mean ‘nightmarish,' then yes, I'm positively thrilled."

Lily laughed, leaning against the counter. "Oh, come on, grumpy girl. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I must have misplaced it along with my desire to be surrounded by drunken idiots in eye patches," she retorted dryly.

"Well, we'll just have to find it then, won't we?" She grinned, undeterred by her Mary's sarcasm. "Have you decided on your costume yet?"

"Halloween is two weeks away." She raised an eyebrow. "And if you mean the jamboree, then absolutely not?"

"Why not? You have to dress up."

"Not going to happen," she deadpanned.

Lily dramatically clutched her chest. "You wound me. How can you not embrace the spirit of the jamboree? It's the best time of the year, and right after Halloween."

"I prefer my spirits in a bottle, thank you very much," she quipped, busying herself with straightening a stack of bookmarks.

"Oh, speaking of ghosts," Lily lowered her voice conspiratorially, "have you heard? Jake might be coming back for the festival."

Mary's hand stilled, her heart skipping a beat. "Let's be crystal clear. Not the Jake you dated last summer who was in finance, but Jake? As in my ex, Jake Thompson?"

Eyes alight with gossip, her friend nodded, "The very same. Apparently, he's been asking about you."

A knot formed in her stomach. Jake was back. Her ex-boyfriend and the son of a wealthy developer, was the last person she wanted to see. Their relationship had ended on rocky terms, and the thought of facing him again made her want to barricade herself in the bookstore's attic.

"Great," Mary muttered. "Because the jamboree festivities weren't going to be hellish enough already."

"Look on the bright side." Lily patted her arm sympathetically. "Maybe you'll rekindle that old flame and have a swashbuckling romance!"

This time, she snorted. "I'd rather jump off the pier."

As her hopelessly romantic friend continued to chatter about costume ideas and party plans, Mary thought about the life she'd imagined for herself as a child, full of adventure and excitement. How had she ended up running a bookstore, dreading the very events that brought life to the community?

The bell chimed once more, and Jim, the delivery guy, entered, pushing a dolly stacked with boxes.

"Hey, Mary. Got quite a few boxes for you today," he announced, looking around. "You want them in the back, like usual?" Then he grinned. "Did you order more punny shirts?"

Knowing where this was going, Lily jumped in. "Keep calm and say Arrr!" she laughed.

Jim pointed at the display in the front. "and don't forget ‘I'm a pirate. I make ship happen!'"

"Or," Lily laughed, wiping her eyes, "Surrender the booty … or the cookies!"

She sniffed. "Very funny, you two," but no matter how she tried, a tiny bit of laughter escaped. Grateful for the distraction, she signed for the boxes, opening them, as the older couple who had added several books and a reading light to their haul gathered around. "We love T-shirts like that," they exclaimed. "We're from Idaho, so to us this is summer weather. Do you have any short sleeved T-shirts?"

Proud of herself for not rolling her eyes, Mary pointed to a box. "Open that one. It should be full of short-sleeve book and pirate T-shirts."

Several of the other boxes were from a recent estate sale and contained old books that she couldn't wait to go through. But first things first. She dusted her hands off on the Hedley & Bennet smock, in a Rifle Paper Co. fabric printed with books, that she wore over her clothes when working in the store, and went to check another customer out.

"I want this one," Jim said, holding up a shirt that proclaimed Booty hunter by day, nap taker by night.

Lily laughed, holding up a pink T-shirt. "I'm getting this one. ‘Why yes, I do plunder like a girl!'" She shook the shirt.

The woman pointed at the shirt. "That's fabulous. Do you have it in red?"

"I'll look," Lily jumped in to help the couple as Mary rang up Jim so he could get on with his deliveries.

"I know you must be crazy busy today," she said as she dropped a Read Between the Tides fridge magnet into his bag. He'd asked for one last time he'd dropped off a delivery and she'd been out of them.

"It's a fun time of year," he said as he thanked her and left the shop. It seemed like only a minute or two later when the bell chimed once more.

Mary looked up, expecting to see another eager tourist, but instead found herself face-to-face with a tall, handsome guy in his late twenties with that classic all-American look. The sea breeze had tousled his blond hair, and he had a great tan.

"Excuse me," he said. "I'm looking for some information on local shipwrecks. Do you have any books on that subject?"

Before she could answer, Lily was there. "You're busy. I'll help him," she said, widening her eyes and mouthing ‘wow' at Mary as she led the guy over to a shelf.

The guy looked like a surfer and by the dazed expression on his face, Mary was guessing that the ‘Lily effect', as she called it, was out in full force.

"Are you here for the jamboree?" she heard Lily ask, and curiosity getting the better of her, Mary took a few steps closer so she could hear what the guy said.

"It doesn't start for a couple of weeks." Lily twirled her hair.

The surfer guy shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "No, I'm here for work. I'm a marine archaeologist."

Lily placed a hand on the guy's bare forearm. "Really? That sounds fascinating. Have you found a new wreck full of treasures on our little island?"

"Actually, I'm researching a potential wreck site off the coast," he replied, scanning the shelves. "I was hoping to find some local accounts that might shed light on the area's maritime history."

Lily motioned her over. As Mary helped him locate the relevant books, she found herself drawn into a conversation about history, shipwrecks, and the secrets hidden beneath the waves. For the first time in a while, a spark of excitement filled her. It would be fun to find a shipwreck. To sail the seas with no particular destination in mind.

"I'm Lily," her friend said, "and this is Mary. She owns this little slice of book heaven."

The guy flashed a smile, clearly smitten. "I'm Alex, Alex Hawthorne."

By the time Mary finished ringing him up, Lily had his number and plans for dinner. She waggled her eyebrows at Mary as they left, calling out, "I'll call you later."

A smile stretching across her face, she fixed herself a glass of sweet tea and pulled the boxes over to the sofa in the reading area of the store. As she carefully unpacked each book, running her fingers over the covers, she inhaled deeply.

"Hello, my pretties," she murmured, a small smile playing on her lips. As she sorted through the rest of the boxes, separating new releases from restocks, a chill ran down her spine.

The sunlight dimmed as clouds rolled in, casting the shop in shadows. A gust of cold air swept through the screen door, rustling pages and making her wish she'd made a cup of hot tea instead of iced.

Shaking off her unease, she turned her attention to the box of used books she'd acquired from an estate sale in Wilmington last month and hadn't had time to go through. As she flipped through them, checking for damage, a slim volume caught her eye. It was a collection of writings by John Muir, its cover faded and worn with age.

Mary opened it, inhaling the musty scent of old paper. Her eyes fell on her favorite quote.

"In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks."

As she turned the pages, something fluttered to the floor. Before she could retrieve it, she noticed the book felt heavier than it should. Frowning, she examined it more closely and realized the last quarter of the pages were glued together. What kind of barbarian did such a thing?

Carefully, she slit the pages with a painted bronze fingernail. Her breath caught in her throat. Nestled in a round hollow carved into the pages was a silver coin the size of a silver dollar.

It had to be fake, right?

It gleamed in the dim light, its surface etched with unfamiliar symbols. Maybe somebody had done it for a scavenger hunt?

But it sure looked real. Suddenly, a gust of wind tore through the shop, banging the screen door open and closed. Books fluttered, pages turning of their own accord, and carried on that wind Mary could have sworn she heard laughter, which was utterly ridiculous. Talk about an overactive imagination from that book of ghost stories she'd stayed up reading last night.

Her fingers tingled as she reached for the coin. It slipped from her grasp, landing on the floor with a heavy clink. As she bent to retrieve it, she noticed the scrap of paper that had fallen earlier. It looked ancient, its edges crumbling.

With trembling hands, Mary unfolded it. Her eyes widened. It was a map, unlike any she'd seen before. Strange markings and unfamiliar coastlines sprawled across its surface.

When the bells above the door chimed, she jumped, a hand to her chest, then quickly put the coin back in the book, tucking the map with it, and tucking it into a drawer to examine later.

As the afternoon wore on, more customers filtered in and out of the store. Mary found herself explaining local pirate lore more times than she cared to count, her patience wearing thinner with each retelling.

"You know," one customer said as she rang up his purchase, "it's so much easier to just order books online these days. But there's something charming about little shops like this."

Mary gritted her teeth, forcing a smile. "We do our best to provide a unique experience."

As the customer left, she muttered under her breath, "Yes, please tell me more about how my livelihood is charming but obsolete."

By the time she closed the store for the day, exhaustion settled over her, making her yawn. She had restocked shelves, arranged displays, and dealt with more pirate enthusiasts than she thought possible. The prospect of two more weeks or so of all this craziness made her want to curl up with a good book and hide until it was over.

As she double checked that she'd locked the front door before going up to her apartment, a gust of wind swept across the front lawn, carrying with it the salty tang of the sea and a whisper of something... else. She paused, her hand on the bright blue door, and looked out towards the sliver of water.

For a moment, just a heartbeat, she could have sworn she saw the silhouette of an old sailing ship on the horizon. But when she blinked, it was gone, leaving her to wonder if it had been nothing more than a trick of the fading light or perhaps a replica ship sailing into the harbor in preparation for the jamboree?

Shaking her head, she grabbed the book with the coin inside, and climbed the stairs to her cozy apartment above the shop. She collapsed onto the blue velvet sectional, kicking off her shoes with a groan of relief.

Mary opened the book, taking the coin out, examining it more closely. The designs were unlike anything she had seen before. Intricate swirls and symbols covered both sides, with what looked like a mermaid on one side and a galaxy of stars on the other. As she turned it over in her hands, she could almost hear the whisper of waves and the creak of an old ship's timbers.

"Get a grip," she muttered to herself, setting the coin on the coffee table made from an old railroad cart. "It's just a trinket for the scavenger hunt."

But as she got ready for bed, she couldn't shake the feeling that the coin was more than a fake. And somehow she knew something was about to change. Whether it was Jake coming back to town, the chaos of the jamboree, or something else, she didn't know. But there was a charge in the air, a sense of anticipation that made her want to get up and go for a walk on the beach.

A snort escaped. "Ridiculous. No more adventure novels before bed."

Lying in bed, glad she'd switched out her summer quilt for the cozy down comforter, she stared at the ceiling, mind whirling with thoughts of pirates, adventure, and the life she had always dreamed of, but never dared to pursue. As she drifted off to sleep, she could have sworn she heard the distant sound of cannon fire and the haunting melody of a sea shanty carried on the wind.